me and my soul
by elincia
Summary: A citadel of dust. AuronCloud


**Title:** me and my soul  
**Author:** keelhaul lizzie  
**Pairings: **Auron/Cloud; vague mentions of Hades/Cloud.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Genres:** Drama  
**Summary:** A citadel of dust.  
**Wordcount:** 685  
**Warnings:** slash, though I'm not entirely sure it's enough to call it that. Minor spoilers for Olympus Coliseum in KHII.  
**Date:** March 16, 2007

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He doesn't know what he returns to the Coliseum for, but nevertheless Cloud steps through its gates, the two bronze statues eternally crossing swords; clashing.

When he first sees Auron, a black shape like the mosaics of Achilles and Theseus standing in between the colonnade of the Coliseum, he can't help but be reminded of Hades. Perhaps it is the shape of Auron's body, his stance; at first he thinks it is the god himself and, truth be told, feels a shameful flicker of fear in the pit of his belly. Cloud's lips curl at the memory, the memory of Hades's skin like salted fish brushing his arm, his lamprey teeth and his breath on Cloud's face, always on Cloud's face.

His big deep sea fish eyes watching him, like round and symmetrical beacons in murky water. His fingers curling around Cloud's shoulder from behind, like the steadying hand of a father; Cloud's mind begins on its own to talk of some kind of reverse Oedipus and then Cloud doesn't want to think anymore.

His boots crunch in the dirt as he falls in line with Auron, in line with the long row of marble pillars; they break the symmetry they provide, two lines of black in between evenly-spaced white. Cloud tries to ascertain what Auron is standing there for, and Auron stays as unmoving as the Colossus of Rhodes.

All these art parallels—it's too much.

"You know Hades, don't you?" Cloud says, with practiced casualness.

"...I do," Auron replies, remaining placid and still.

"You've made a deal with him, haven't you?"

"Awfully forward for a stranger, aren't you?" Cloud doesn't seem to want to answer; Auron doesn't expect him to. He remains guardedly expressionless. "But I did, yes."

Cloud says nothing and shuffles in the dirt, the dust; he examines his black combat boots and watches how the little white particles settle—the same colour as the inexorable pillars, as if all the dirt is the remains of some ancient monument ground to dust.

The Colossus of Rhodes, perhaps.

"And why do you ask?" Auron says lowly. Finally he turns and fixes Cloud with his good eye. He is like a petulant child, Auron thinks—like someone he used to know, big-eyed and blond and maybe a little stupid.

Cloud is still a stranger, however—_though, Auron thinks, remembering that old acquaintance, hopefully not for long_. He smiles a little and with his scars and his stubble and his funny flyaway hair he is hardly the model of Greek perfection.

Cloud turns away. "...I just know how it is, that's all."

"Interesting," Auron says, and turns his face forward again, regaining the look of some sort of rough-hewn piece of art, possibly borne from the hands of some underdeveloped craftsman—a rebellious craftsman, perhaps.

Strangely, Cloud does not know of the tiny statuette Hades had, a wax likeness of Auron; of course, even if he did, he'd assume it was for Hades's little board games, the ones he used to play while Cloud watched, detached; moving pieces about the grid in incomprehensible patterns like a child playing with toy soldiers. Nevertheless, it had been there, all of Auron except his skin and his bones and his guts trapped inside an ushabti, destined for hard labour in the afterlife if only for one day of the year.

There was something oddly Egyptian about the way Hades conducted business with his slaves; those ancient people and their art.

Auron puts his hand on Cloud's shoulder; the gesture is surprising and so reminiscent of Hades—Auron is old enough to be his father, he realizes. It makes Cloud flinch, just a little.

"It's always interesting to meet people who've been fucked around as much as I have," Auron says, and Cloud honestly cannot tell whether or not he is joking.

Auron turns to leave, but after a few steps thinks better of it.

"And," he says, "if I remind you of Hades so much, there is probably a reason why."

When Cloud frowns at him, an unconscious little reflex, Auron smiles and says "I'm just saying."


End file.
